Irk
by Mrs. Hiddleston
Summary: There are just some things that people do that drive other people crazy. But the best part is that the other people love them anyway.
1. Tongue Clicking

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**Okay, this idea just randomly popped into my head, but...yeah. Tell me what you think, couples will be what I decide to write, but if you have a suggestions or requests, please let me know. Review!**

**Alright, here we go...**

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Bill & Fleur

The burrow was strangely calm that evening, as adversed to its normal havoc. The twins were currently at their shop, Molly was bent over the kitchen stove, and Arthus was pouring over some Muggle magazine. Remus was filling Charlie in on some of the doings of the Order. Bill was sitting on the floor, a book on his lap, and he was staring at the pages frustratedly. Fleur sat across from him, studying a map of Gringotts. She had decided to take a full-time job, and was now working on Bill's floor, just two doors down.

Every now and then, he'd feel a gaze on him and look up to find Charlie smirking unsettling at him, and giving him pointed glances and then looking away quickly. Bill clicked his tongue unsurely. Charlie was like the twins in many ways, and it was more likely that not that whatever he was thinking wouldn't be in his best interest. He clicked his tongue again as he looked back down at his book, trying to focus.

_Click._

_Click. _

_Click, click, click._

"Stop zat!" Bill looked up, startled, to see Fleur glaring at him, eyes narrowed. He grinned charmingly at her.

"Stop what."

She gestured wildly with her hands toward his mouth, blonde hair flying. "Stop doing _zat_!" Molly glared at the blonde, and Charlie and Remus shot him sympathetic looks. He held up his hands in surrender.  
"Alright, alright, calm down, I'll stop." She nodded stiffly and went back to her map. Bill studied her for a moment, and then looked back down at his own book, glancing at her discreetly out of the corner of his eyes.

_Click._

He looked away quickly as her head shot up, eyes blazing, and began humming conspiciously. Charlie sniggered, and Ron, who was sitting with Harry and Hermione around the fireplace, shot him a mug look. He heard her grow lowly and her head dropped, encasing her face in a curtain of blonde hair.

_Cliiick_.

"_Oh mon Dieu, vous êtes conduite me crazy vous stupide bâtard, je vais vous tuer!_" She shrieked diving across the space between them and tackling him so that he was flat on his back, her arms around his throat, constricting what little air he had. And with what little air he _did _have, Bill roared with laughter, trying very hard to remove the crazed, petite blonde from on top of him. Molly looked like she was about explode; despite the fact that everyone knew Fleur wouldn't _really_ kill him, it seemed to infuriate her that anyone would _ever _try to hurt her little 'William.'

Bill was finally able to get up, and he scrambled away from the girl, holding his arms out in front of him. He shot Charlie a glare, as the younger boy was unabashedly laughing at him. "Alright, I was just leaving anyway!" He back away from her, slipping through the door and making to close it, but just before it did, he stuck his head through as if to say something.

_Click._ Fleur's shriek of outrage followed by a thrown mug of tea which smashed into the closed door where Bill's head had just been could be heard all the way back to her homeland, but Bill's hearty chuckle, which could be heard by all eight occupants of the room, was just enough to put a smile on her face again.

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**A/N: Alrighty, so there's the first chappie, Bill and Fleur, gotta love those French people! **

**Translation of French above: "Oh my God, you're driving me crazy you stupid bastard, I'll kill you!" LOL, she may be a super spoiled barbie doll extraordinaire, but I do love Fleur. **

**Tell me waht you think!**


	2. Dog Ear

**Here's chapter two! I'm hoping that I can get five chapters done tonight, but we'll see...**

**Here we goooooo...**

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Harry & Ginny

The library, and all of the castle for that matter, was relatively silent. It was a beautiful day, and no one, not even the unappreciative, anti-nature Slytherins was inside. That is, no one except a certain Weaslette and her green-eyes boyfriend. The two of them sat across from each other at a table, feet touching, hands clasped. Ginny was pouring restlessly over her many piles of homework, which Harry had offered to help with but Ginny had absolutely refused to let him, which were preparation for her O.W.L's. Harry watched her in amusement for a few minutes, and it wasn't until after his seventh snicker that her head snapped up, brown eyes narrowed into thin slits.

"Would you just _shut up_?" She hissed loudly, slamming her hands on the table. Harry looked at her, his eyebrows raising in a bemused sort of fashion, and Ginny growled.

"Ginerva, I haven't the foggiest what you are shouting so belligerently about, but I would advise you not to take that tone of voice with me." Ginny put her hands on her hips, her expression disbelieving. Harry was wearing a smirk that could've rivaled Malfoy's, or any Slytherin for that matter.

"Because, Weaslette, I'm the chosen one, I'm special, so everybody has to do what _I _say!" Ginny giggled as he tilted his head back, nose in the air.

"You know, you sounded just like Malfoy."

Harry grinned, running a hand through his hair as if attempting to slick it back. "And I look like him, too. Ginny snorted, rolling her eyes. She set down her book, folding back the corner of the page and closing it. By the way she leant lazily in her chair, it was obvious she'd be doing no more studying at moment. Harry frowned as his eyes wandered over to the discarded book. "Why did you do that?"

She looked at him quizzically. He slid a slender finger between the pages and flipped open the book where the page was dog-eared. He pointed. "That. Why do you do it?"

She felt self-conscious under his intense gaze and stumbled over her words. "I..I dont' know...bad habit, I guess." She shrugged, looking bored. Then she peered at him from behind her curtain of hair. "Why do you care? Hermione hasn't been rubbing off on you too bad, has she? Not running off to join spew?"

He rolled his eyes and leaned back too, hands behind his head and eyes closed. "I dunno, I just..." She could tell by his tone of voice that he was relaxed now. He didn't sound unsure of himself or shy, he just sounded like...Harry. "I mean...it didn't used to bother me in the Muggle world. Books were just books there. I'd read it and then toss it, never even think about it again. But here..." He sighed. Sometimes she forgot that he was raised by Muggles, but times like these reminded her that, at first, at least, this had all been foreign to him.

She shifted so that her arms were folded against the wood of the table. She rested her chin on top of them, her eyes on Harry. He didn't seem to notice. "Everything here is magical. Everything I've encountered...the plants are a little greener, the animals are a little bit healthier...it all _feels _magical. So whenever I get a book from the library, it's like a...it's like I'm holding a magical creature in my hand, and if I bend the pages or hold it the wrong way, I could damage its magic." He looked unsurely at Ginny from behind his bangs, his face tinged with pink. She knew he never would've voiced this to anyone else: Hermione would've gone into a full-blown lecture about how all books should be treated right, magical or not, and Ron would've just scoffed.

"A bit stupid, really," he mumbled, fumbling with his tie for need of something to do.

Ginny looked up earnestly at him. "A bit...but not _that _much. It just shows..." She peered at him shrewdly. "It just shows that you're a little more passionate and respectful towards magic than the average wizard or witch. Besides.." She was smirking again, in attempt to lighten the mood. "If it makes you feel better, I'll get a bookmark, and I'll never bend the page again."

Harry grinned and stood up, stretching. Ginny's eyes subconsciously wandered over his form. He had grown over the summer after fifth year. He _almost _looked like a man. His tiny, scrawny figure had stretched into a long, muscular body of a young man. Harry caught her looking and smirked.

"Shall we go for a walk?" He asked, putting some of her books into her bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He offered his free arm to her. She took, smiling as she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek chastely.

"Absolutely."

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**A/N: Was it lame...terrible, stupid? Please tell me. I'm really pleased with it, so I hope you guys are too. I tried to kinda construct Ginny as a critical but listening character, who Harry could always turn to when he needed someone to talk to, and not just because she was his girlfriend. I also wanted to show that their relationship held meaning, and conversation, not just snogging, like _some_ people *coughRonandLavendercough*. So yep, there we go!**

**Review!**


	3. A Matter of Snogging

**A/N: Hello everybody! It's been a while, hasn't it? Not making excuses or anything, but my computer with all my stories on it is no longer connected to the internet, so I have to retype everything onto the new computer, which is quite tedious. Anyway, thanks for the review on the last two chapter, and here's the next one! This'll be a Ron/Lavender. I actually quite like the pairing, because I think Hermione is too good for Ron, so sorry to all you Ron/Hermione lovers out there, but I _probably _won't do a Ron/Hermione unless someone requests it.**

**So, here we go... :)**

Ron felt incredibly happy. The first Quidditch match had gone without a hitch, and he had gotten the opportunity to rub it in McLaggen's face that he had done an excellent job, a fact that Hermione reprimanded him for later.

"Won-Won!" Ron grimaced as he heard a familiar voice. It wasn't that he didn't like Lavender, she was quite fun. She knew how to have a good time and had a good sense of humor. It was just that she would _never quit snogging him_ and it was driving him _crazy_!

"Hey, Lav," he said weakly, catching the girl in his arms and stumbling backwards as she began attacking his mouth with hers. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione, who was curled up in an arm chair by the fire, make a disgusted face and walk up to her dormitory, book in hand.

"So, how're you?" Ron said, seizing an opportunity to speak as she pulled away for a breath. He lead the two of them over to the love seat in front of the fire. "I saw you and Parvati talking to Trelawney and you had positively tragic expressions on your faces."

Lavender giggled, swatting at him playfully, and a goofy grin slid onto his face. "Oh, Professor Trelawney was just informing us that a certain golden boy would face certain death at the end of the month. Apparently he's going to get attacked by a rabid unicorn."

"Well, I'll tell Harry to avoid all singularly-horned horses, then." Lavender laughed again, moving into kiss him, and Ron backed away, uncertain as to how to phrase his next statement. And indeed his uncertainty grew when she looked at him with large eyes that were rapidly filling with tears. Internally cursing, Ron restrained a groan. He had forgotten how sensitive Lavender was, and even more, how bad he was at comforting people in distress.

"What's wrong?" she said in a trembling voice. "I-what did i-?"

"You just-you always...always want-to snog." He stated bluntly, cringing at how utterly frank the words came out. Lavender's tears had subsided, and she was now tilting her head sideways, looking confusedly at him. Ron couldn't help but think how adorable she looked right then.

"Well, what do _you _want to do?" she said, and Ron gulped as he saw the mischievous glint in her eyes, hiding a smirk. Oh, how different she was from Hermione.

"No, Madam Pervertedness-" The glint grew, and he absently tugged on his collar. "I actually meant, why can't we, you know, just talk sometimes?"

To his surprised, a bright blush overtook Lavender's face, and she ducked her head. "You'll think I'm silly."

He put two fingers under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. "I won't."

She avoided his eyes as she spoke. "I'm-you'll never believe it, but I'm dreadfully shy, and I don't-it doesn't always occur to me what I should say sometimes, and even though it seems like I am, I-I'm not good with p-people. So, when I don't know what to say, which is all the time, I just..."

Ron blinked, feeling an impeding weight lift from his shoulders. "Oh, that's it. I though maybe you just liked to snogged me, and your feelings didn't really extend past-you know, the physical level."

She shook her head, looking slightly miserable. "No, I...I really like you."

Ron smiled, taking her hand. "I like you, too. And you don't have to be afraid of knowing the right thing to say around me. We can get to know each other, and then we'll know what to talk about when we're together. It doesn't happen over night."

Lavender smiled, and it was Ron who leaned in to kiss her this time, softer, more gently than before. "C'mon," he said when he drew back, pulling her to her feet. "Let's go to lunch."

The two of them left he common room, neither noticing two figures standing in the shadows of the dormitories staircase, both whom had heard their entire conversation. After a moment, they stepped out, the smaller figure brushing the dust off of her robes.

"Maybe...maybe Lavender's not so bad." Harry Potter said. "Not so shallow, y'know?"

Hermione Granger smiled.

**A/N: So, there we are! I really hope you all enjoyed it. I am aware that Ron was _quite _OOC, at least from the Ron we see in the first five, but I think maybe he grew into his suaveness as the years past him by ;)**

** By the way, in my story, Hermione doesn't sob over Lavender and Ron, and they've both kinda accepted that they aren't meant to be :P**

**Please review! And drop a review if you have any suggestions or requests of couples that you'd like me to do next!**


	4. Nobility Disorder

**A/N: Hello everybody! Thanks for all your loverly reviews! They made me very happy! So up next is another Harry/Ginny, which was requested by Ginny-T-Potter, so thank you mucho mucho mucho for requesting! I'll give it a shot, kinda writing off the top of my head :)**

**So, here we go... :)**

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Harry/Ginny

Harry slammed the locker room door, and the resounding _bang _seemed to echo of the walls around him, although he didn't notice. He plopped down on the bench, tugging off his boots, throwing them against the opposite wall in fury. They had just had another terrible practice, and Harry was more frustrated than ever.

"Did you know that if you throw them against a wall more than six times, they'll burst into flame?"

Harry looked up to see Ginny leaning against the door, her lips quirked with amusement. He scowled at her, looking back down at the floor, buring his hands in his hair. "Oh, lighten up, Potter."

"No, I will not bloody well _lighten up_, Weasley. The Quidditch Cup is a month away and we're nowhere _near _ready. No offense, but I'm going to _kill _your brother."

Ginny smirked. "No offense taken. I don't blame you." She sat down beside him, pulling off her gloves as she did. With a dainty hand, she gently stroked back his hair so that it didn't hang down in front of his eyes. Then her hand moved down to gently massage the tension from his shoulders. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes in contentment.

"Sorry for being snarky with you," he mumbled after a moment, not meeting her eye.

She shrugged. "Eh, I think I've been snarky with you more times than I can count, so I'll deal." She studied his face, which was turned away from hers, but she could tell that he was watching her from the corner of his eye. "What's wrong, Potter?"

He sighed, and his hand moved up again subconsciously to ruffle his hair, but she caught it midway with a knowing smirk. She let go of his hand as she saw his blush and looked at him expectantly.

"I just...I feel like I could be such a better captain, you know. I remember how Wood used to push us and push us. We'd dread going to practice, and afterwards, we'd feel like crap, but at the same time, it was sort of an accomplished feeling, like we were all working our arses off to get to this goal that was just barely out of our reach. I feel...I feel like I'm not getting anywhere with you guys. Not you," he said quickly. "You're bloody brilliant. But sometimes...sometimes Demelza is too whiny, or Ritchie does try hard enough...or Ron..." He quickly backtracked, looking away shamefacedly. "Not to say that I don't have my faults. I mean, half the time, I feel like I'm not doing nearly as good as I could be. Actually, it's probably my doing that we aren't as good as we should be, because-"

Ginny lifted a finger to his lips, silencing him. He looked at her with wide, unblinking eyes, and she couldn't help but laugh at how adorably innocent he looked at the moment. After she was sure he would remain silent, Ginny removed her finger from his lips. It was a minute before she spoke, and then, "You have something called a Nobility Disorder, Potter."

She stifled a giggle as he peered at her unsurely, his thick brows furrowed above his wire-rimmed glasses. "Hermione and I went to the library and did some research, you show all the symptoms."

He chuckled, catching onto her joke and playfully knocked her with his shoulder. "I do not have a 'nobility disorder.'"

"Yes, you do," Ginny said firmly, suddenly serious. "Always whining about how everything is your fault, if you had done this, if you had done that-"

He started to protest, but she stopped him again, this time with a very Mrs. Weasleyish glare. "Don't you dare, argue, Harry Potter, or I swear I'll bat-bogey you to Saudie Arabia." Yes, those two components shut him up rather nicely. "Sooner or later, Potter-"

She moved closer to him, resting her hand on his shouder, turning his body to face hers, and he looked down at her nervously. "Sooner or later, you're going to have to learn that you _just _can't control everything. All things happen for a reason, and you have to stop blaming yourself for the outcomes. What's done is done, and there's no looking back." He relaxed slightly, and with a smirk, she added, "Hakuna Matata."

Harry shot a startled glance at her. "What did you just say?"

"Hakuna Matata."

"But-but that's from a cartoon muggle movie! How could you possibly-"

"Harry, you _know _how my dad is about muggles. He made us watch it the _moment _that movie came out. It was actually quite good."

"Quite good," Harry agreed absently, once again realizing their closeness. "Erm...thanks, Ginny. I mean...for...well, you're good at making me happy...erm..." Harry's face flushed as he realized how bad that sounded. But Ginny just laughed liltingly, rising and holding out a hand to pull him to his feet.

"Yes, well, I do tend to have that affect on people. C'mon, let's go get dinner."

Harry followed her out of the locker room and up to the castle, humming "_Hakuna Matata_" all the way there.

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**A/N: So, there we are! These are all tragically short, I'm sorry! I really hope you all enjoyed it. For anyone who didn't quite get what the "irk" was in this chapter, Ginny gets fed up with Harry's nobility. **

**In this chapter, Harry and Ginny aren't together yet, but as you can see, they're very..._close_. **

**I'm sorry, I just _had _to throw in the Hakuna Matata, it just seemed like it fit so well! For all of you who don't know, Hakuna Matata belong to "The Lion King" A Musical and Disney Movie. One of my favorites!:P It came out in 1994, so it would've been end of Harry's 3rd year/ beginning of Harry's 4th year. **

**Please review! And drop a review if you have any suggestions or requests of couples that you'd like me to do next!**


	5. A Solution for Babbling

**A/N: Hello everybody! I'm on an updating spree tonight, and I'm updating this before I've read any of the reviews, so I PROMISE that if someone requested something it will be next-pinkie swear! :)**

**Alright...don't hate...don't hate me...please try not to hate me...next one is: ****Draco/Hermione**

**And before you all say 'ick' 'eww' 'ugh' and/or 'gross!' Please please please give it a chance! And for all you Draco/Hermione lovers: yay! I'm kind of nervous about this one, so please don't be too rough with the critique: Imma sensitive soul :(**

**So, here we go... :) By the way, this is AU. Narcissa left Draco's father because she thought he was getting 'too deep' into the Death Eater nonsense, so now, she and Draco are staying at Grimmauld Place. It's the summer before Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco's fifth year. **

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Draco and Ronald were fighting again.

It was their fifth time this week, and quite honestly, Hermione was getting tired of it. It had been a month since Draco and his mother had arrived at Grimmauld Place. Things had been a little tense since the two had arrived, but Narcissa proved to be very helpful in the kitchen, and Draco really was trying hard to make up for his past crimes. It had only taken a couple days for Harry to warm up to him, and now, four weeks later, they were as thick as thieves. Ronald's attitude, however, was a little more aversed towards the Slytherin.

She couldn't blame him, she supposed. Draco had said some pretty terrible things to the three of them. But nothing he had said to Ron could even begin to compare to the insults that he had thrown on a daily basis at Hermione, and she was taking his presence at Grimmauld Place in stride. They were even somewhat friends...

Not that she would ever _dare _to turn her back on the greasy little ferret.

Downstairs, Hermione heard Mrs. Weasley calling them for dinner, and she closed her book. The Black library had proven to be _nearly _as impressive as the Hogwarts' library. After she discovered the room, Hermione would hole herself up in there for days, as an attempt to drown out Ron and Draco's screaming. Both Molly and Narcissa had attempted to break it up several times, but the two boys would always end up back at each others necks.

Harry, Ron, and Draco were already at the table. Harry was sitting between the two boys with a stony expression. On his left, Draco was glaring determinedly at the wall, his grey eyes narrowed in fury. On Harry's right, Ron's face had taken on a puce color, and his cheeks were puffed out, not unlike a chipmunks would be. Hermione caught Harry's eye and he shook his head in exasperation. She smiled.

"Can I help you in there, Mrs. Weasley?" she asked the plump, redheaded woman, who was fumbling with a few dishes. She hurriedly grabbed them out of the older woman's hands and she smiled gratefully. Hermione set the plates down at the table, and then moved back into the kitchen, nearly bumping into Narcissa.

"You look lovely in that color, Hermione," Narcissa said politely, smiling warmly at the bushy-haired witch.

Hermione glanced down at her baby blue cardigan before looking back up at Mrs. Malfoy with a smile. "Thank you, ma'am. My mum bought it for Christmas-"

"Yes, Her-my-own-ninny, you look simpwy bootie-full in that color," Draco said teasingly, and she nudged him playfully, taking her seat beside him.

"Oi, nobody asked you, you rotten ferret."

"So, where've you been all day?" he asked her as he shoveled a heap of mash potatoes onto his plate. Hermione decided not to comment on his portions.

"I've been up in the library. I've been studying all the subjects that we're going to be tested on for our O.W.L's. Apparently, each subject has a sub-division, that which we will be tested on to determine our level of intellectual use of logistics in order to better come to a conclusion when sorting through a difficult problem-"

Draco clapped a hand over her mouth. "Potatoes, Granger?" At her furious look, he shrugged. "What? You were boring me."

From Draco's right, Harry snorted into his pumpkin juice. "Trust me, mate, you just did what we all aren't brave enough to do."

"Seriously, how do you handle this one?"

"You learn to tune her out after a while," Harry said nonchalantly, not noticing Hermione shooting him furious glares. Finally, Draco released his hold on her mouth, and she let out an indignant huff, filling her plate with food.

"So, what're we doing tomorrow?" Draco asked Harry. "I was thinking maybe some backyard Quidditch? I've been wanting to show you Gryffindors how to really play for a while now."

Harry laughed, about to answer, when Ron cut in gruffly. "The teams will be uneven. It's usually me, Ginny, and Fred, against George, Harry, and Hermione."

"Yes, because everyone knows how much I _love _Quidditch, Ronald," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. Turning to Draco, she said, "You can fill in for me."

Draco smirked at her, but it seemed to be full of something other than mirth and arrogance, and Hermione looked away quickly, blushing.

That evening, Hermione found herself, once again, in the back of the Black library, surrounded by an enormous pile of books. It was nearly one in the morning, but Hermione was wide awake as her eyes flickered across the pages eagerly.

Perhaps it was the dimness of the library, or the heavy silence, but Hermione felt cold fear trickle down her spine, and she hastily glanced around. Determining that no one was there, she looked back down at her book, attempting to focus, only to hear the soft pad of bare feet against carpet.

"Lumos," she breathed. There was no one to be seen. Rubbing her eyes and deciding that it was her mind playing tricks on her, she sunk deeper into her chair, burrying her nose into the thick, dusty volume that rested on her lap.

"Boo!" Hermione jumped a foot in the air, drawing her wand and pivoting to face whoever was behind her. There was a yelp of pain, and Hermione lit her wand quickly, only to see Draco Malfoy splayed out on the ground, holding his face in agony.

"Merlin, Granger, I was only trying to scare you! You didn't have to go and poke my bloody eye out!"

Hermione knelt beside him, half angry at him for sneaking up on her and half amused at seeing him rolling around on the floor like a child. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I was startled-let me see." Gently, she pried his hand away from his eye. It was bloodshot and watering, but it certainly didn't look in danger of rolling out of it's socket.

"Healer Granger has determined that your condition, although serious, isn't fatal," she said teasingly, offering him a hand, and, grunting, she heaved him to his feet. It was only then that Hermione realized that Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her, in all his 6'1 glory, _shirtless, _wearing nothing but a pair of Slytherin green sweat pants. Her eyes wandered over his form, a blush staining her cheeks as she looked up and saw that he was smirking smugly at her.

"Like what you see, Granger?"

"Piss off," she muttered, turning on her heel and preparing to storm away in an entirely overdramatic exit, but was forced to stop when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, turning her to face him.

"Hey, c'mon now Granger, is that anyway to treat a guy that you nearly just killed?"

"You were trying to scare me!" Hermione argued, her hands on her hips.

"I've never heard of someone being scared to death," he said tauntingly. "However, your wand could have punctured right through my eye socket and lodged into my brain, and then we'd be in _quite_ a sticky situation, wouldn't we?"

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest but said nothing, glaring determinedly at his collarbone, which was at her eye level. After several minutes of neither of them speaking, however, she looked up at him nervously. "So...erm...what do you want?" She hadn't meant for the question to come out so sinisterly, but judging by the look on his face, the suddenly mischievous curl of his lip, he had taken it just that way.

In a smooth movement, he had moved closer to her, one of his hands tangling in her hair and the other lying on her hips, gripping rather tightly as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "_Reimbursement_."

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine that didn't, like only minutes before, have anything to do with fear. After a moment, however, the logical side of her brain took over and she stepped back, arching an eyebrow challengingly. "For what? You didn't lose an eye. I don't owe you anything!"

He smirked, stepping closer, his smirk broadening as he saw her take a tiny step backwards. "It hurt _awfully _bad. I believe I need to make you hurt equally bad."

Hermione's jaw dropped and she swatted at him. The stifling heat of the moment disappeared as he ducked out of the way of her blows, laughing loudly. Hermione's entire face was red as a result of his words, and he was just standing there, smirking at her, like he was king of the world. Because they both knew the moment the words left his mouth that he wasn't thinking of the _bad _kind of pain.

"Malfoy-_punch-_you-_punch_-absolutely-_punch_-perverted-_punch_-arse! How _dare _you say something like that to me!"

He just laughed, dancing further out of her reach. Finally she let out a huff, dropping into her chair, reengaging herself in her book as an attempt to block him out.

"Granger-"

She didn't look up.

"Granger-"

She lifted the book higher to block the face that was now inches from her own.

"GRANGER!"

"WHAT!" She roared finally, flinging the book down. She was surprised the rest of the house hadn't woken up because of the commotion, but knowing that sneaky little snake, he had probably cast a silencing charm on the room.

He was probably just going to make another sexual innuendo-

"Look, I didn't mean to offend you, okay."

-Well, that was strange. The ferret almost looked...guilty. But that couldn't be, Hermione thought, because he was never even slightly ashamed of his actions, unless his actions really warrented shame.

"In all honestly, I just like getting you all riled up."

Hermione wasn't sure if this amused or infuriated her. But when she looked up and saw his grey eyes probing hers earnestly, she wasn't really sure too much of anything.

"I-oh, it's okay," she babbled. "Because, really, I was only overreacting. It's in my nature to overreact to certain situations because I'm so dependent on precise variables, you see, that and the fact that you know exactly how to rile me up, which is strange, because we never really spent that much time together, but I suppose through observation and study of the human nature you can conclude that through different aspects of-"

He silenced her for the second time that day, but this time, it wasn't with his hand.

Draco Malfoy was _kissing _her.

Hermione felt her entire body go weak as his lips softly moved against her own, far more gentle than _Viktor _had ever been. She felt one of his hands slip around her waist, pulling her flush against him, while the other tangled in her mass of bushy hair, and Hermione wondered idly if he'd ever recover it.

His hand slipped under her shirt and stroked the soft skin of her stomach, and Hermione moaned into his mouth. "Merlin, Malfoy," she said breathless against his lips. "Your silencing charms really do work." He said nothing, but quickly melded their lips together again, not that Hermione minded so much.

"You talk too much, Granger." He said, before lowering his mouth to place soft, lingering kisses on her throat. Hermione felt slightly offended.

"I just talk when I'm nervous," she said, affronted, although each time his lips would brush over the sensitive skin of her neck, she felt her anger dwindle.

"Babble, is more like it," he argued. "But it's alright," he said quickly, before she could respond. "As long as I get to shut you up like _this_ every time."

Hermione felt her face heat up as his mouth returned to hers, and she tightened her arms around him, sighing blissfully as he pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Ahem." Hermione turned her head so fast that she felt her neck crack. Wincing, she looked over to see Harry leaning against one of the bookcases, a strangely knowing smile on his lips. "You kids don't stay up _too _late now." Draco smirked and mock saluted him.

Hermione left the library about an hour later, crawling into bed and drawing the covers up to her eyes. Looking over to the bed opposite hers, in the moonlight, she could see Ginny smirking at her, her eyebrows arched in question.

Maybe his silencing charms weren't so good, after all.

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**A/N: So, there we are! This was a bit longer, and a bit more...erm...snoggy...haha. I really hope you all enjoyed it. The "irk" in this chapter was babbling, in case I didn't make it painfully obvious**

**Please review! And drop a review if you have any suggestions or requests of couples that you'd like me to do next!**


	6. Stubborn

**A/N: Just a little Tomione one-shot inspired by Rihanna's Stay! Love this song, if you haven't heard it, you should really check it out!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all familiar content**

* * *

_"Funny you're the broken one, but I'm the only one who needed saving."-Rihanna; Stay_

The bed was cold next to her, and Hermione grasped the sheets tighter around her to fight off the chill that seemed to permanently reside in her flat. The scent of coffee assaulted her senses and her eyes lazily wandered over to the bedroom door, which hung open. She could hear Tom in the kitchen bustling about, but couldn't find any real motivation to get up.

They had argued last night, and Tom had slept on the couch; neither of them had made any attempt to fix what had happened between them, but the air seemed to have lost its cutting tension. So, with a sigh, Hermione pulled herself out of bed, shivering as her feet hit the cold floor. She padded, barefoot, towards the small kitchenette and leaned against the door-frame, silently watching him.

His shirt-the one that currently adorned her torso-was missing, and his sleeping pants hung low on his hips. His hair was messy and his eyes looked blood-shot from sleep, but his hands moved acutely as he prepared not one, but two steaming mugs of coffee. Hermione reveled for a moment in how little she deserved him. She hazily observed the line of his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back; without really thinking, she closed the distance between them and reached out to touch him. His movements froze and his entire body tensed, almost without thinking. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and almost let out a sigh of relief as he finally relaxed, leaning back into her, his hands resting on the counter top.

"Good morning." His voice was hoarse, gravelly.

"Morning," she mumbled into his shoulder. "That wouldn't happen to be for me, would it?" He chuckled, handing her the mug. She swung herself up and plopped down on the counter top, and he absently ran his fingers along the top of her bare thighs, leaning against the cabinet so that they were side-by-side.

"We need to talk," he murmured, and Hermione repressed a groan.

"Right, of course. So, how's work?"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "'Mione, you know that _isn't _what I meant."

She hastily backtracked. "Oh, of course, if you don't want to talk about work, that's fine! So, I was thinking for Christmas vacation, there's a really pretty island, just South of-"

"_Her_mione!" his voice was so stern that she almost flinched. "I want to know why you're so afraid of me."

She gave him a dubious look, and he retraced his steps. "'I didn't mean that way; why are you refusing to talk about this. Do you...not want to...marry me?" Her body had a physical reaction to the word; she jerked away from him, withdrawing her hand from his grasp.

"It's...it's not _that_," she argued weakly, her voice betraying her thoughts. "But..._Merlin _Tom, we're only twenty-four! We both need to get used to maintaining ourselves, being able to support ourselves with a steady career-"

"Oh, _bullocks_, Mione!" He pushed off of the counter, running an agitated hand through his hair as he whirled to face her. "I would've taken that excuse four years ago, maybe, but it's been _seven years _since we graduated Hogwarts. _Seven years _to learn how to maintain ourselves and develope our careers. I understand you're a practical person, but we've been together for _five _years!"

"Right, and typically the relationships issues develope within within the first ten, so we're only halfway there!"

He scoffed condescendingly, hardly noticing as she too got to her feet, a good six inches beneath him. "As if we haven't been through enough of a tumultuous time yet! You really think our relationship hasn't faced every obstacle the world could throw at us? Merlin, Hermione, have I not proven to you that _I. Am Not. Lord Voldemort? _What are you so afraid of?"

"I never said you were!" she said shrilly, her face flushing.

"Then _what are you so afraid of? _Are you just going to hang my faults over my head to use against me whenever I do something wrong, because I'll tell you now, Granger, I'm _far _from perfect, and if a perfect man is all you want, then-then you can just _leave-_"

"I _never _said you had to be perfect, Tom! You're reading into things!"

They were both breathing heavily as they stared at one another, both refusing to back down. Tom's hands were fists at his sides, and Hermione was gripping the counter top so tightly that her knuckles were white. After a moment, he let out a harsh exhale, reaching out and touching her waist. "Why won't you marry me, Hermione? Is it-do you not love me?"

She let out a growl of annoyance, reaching forward and tugging him toward her. "Don't be stupid," she said fiercely. "Of course I do, I just...you're right, you know. I _am _a practical person, and I feel as though neither of us are mature enough to deal with this-"

"Hermione." His voice was a mixture of seriousness and amusement. "We practically _live _together. We do our grocery shopping together, we spend holidays together. We're already married in every sense except the legal one-"

"What if everything changes?" she blurted, and he blinked at her.

"What if-_what_?" But she no longer looking at him; her face was turned towards her feet, and her lower lip was trembling rather distressingly.

"I just-I don't want anything to be different between, and I-I've seen married couples fall apart." She wasn't lying; after she had restored her parents memories, when Voldemort was vanquished, they had had a very hard time restoring their relationship with their daughter, and were not capable of restoring their relationship with each other. Hermione had made every attempt to reconcile her estranged parents, but they were both stubborn people. The guilt was something that she had to deal with every day.

"Hey, look at me," Tom's voice broke through her reverie. "Look at me," he repeated, when at first she didn't comply. "Your parents loved each other-really they did. There were just too many secrets for them to handle. But we won't be like that, Hermione-I swear. We're stronger than that."

"I don't need you to give me a line right now, Tom," she snapped, turning away from him. Instead of being discouraged, he rolled his eyes, drawing her back to him.

"You know I _hate _when you do this." He said good-naturedly, and her face snapped back to his.

"_Excuse _me?" She raised her eyebrows. The expression that normally terrified Harry and Ron into doing her bidding had little effect on the Heir of Slytherin.

"When you know I'm right, so you start reiterating; it drives me crazy."_  
_

"Well I'm _so _sorry that my antics are displeasing to you!" she quipped, sliding out of his grasp and making to stomp of dramatically, but Tom deftly encircled her waist with his arm, pulling her back against his chest. "Get _off_."

"_Mione_," he murmured into her hair, and she tried and failed to repress a shudder of pleasure. "_Marry me_."_  
_

"Rather pathetic of you, isn't it, to beg?" she taunted, a last-ditch attempt to get a rise out of him. He chuckled deeply, his baritone sending a thrill of pleasure down Hermione's spine. Despite her verbal protests, she clung to him, her head rolling back to rest on his shoulder.

"Quite pathetic," he agreed. "I'm acting like a bloody Gryffindor, aren't I?" She giggled, attempting again to slip out of his grasp, but he pulled her closer. "Hermione? Aren't we forgetting something?"

She bit her lip, peering up at him, and he pressed his lips against her forehead. She sighed, leaning against his mouth. "_Fine_. I'll marry you."

The grin on his lips was breathtaking. He lifted her into his arms, her legs tying around his waist as he pressed his lips against the flesh of her neck. "That's my girl, breaking bad habits left and right."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, distracted by the feeling of his lips on her neck. "Come back to bed."

He readily complied, slamming the bedroom door behind him, both of their coffee mugs sitting on the counter top steaming and long-forgotten.


End file.
